


Reunion in the halls

by EmperorAdrian



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorAdrian/pseuds/EmperorAdrian
Summary: After his death, Feanor ponders his misdeeds in the halls of Mandos, where he is to meet his parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters, they all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien

Feanaro walked across the halls, not knowing what to expect. His death had been recent and his judgment had already passed. And yet there was no one here, much to Feanaro's surprise. He had expected to see his father, or perhaps even his son. The son that had perished among the flames, the son that he had killed.

 

It was of no use to dwell in his memory, Feanaro thought bitterly. But the truth was still there, and Feanaro doubted that he could ever forgive himself for it. Not just for the death of his son, but for the burning of the ships and the kinslaying at Aqualonde. Feanaro now saw that a madness had taken over him, a madness that had come to be because of the slaying of his father and the robing of the Silmarils, his greatest work.

 

Feanaro knew that he should have listen to Nelyafinwe, that if he had not burnt the ships so much would have been different. Feanaro remembered the last words Nerdanel had uttered to him. _"Would you forsake the fate of our sons for these jewels? Alas, now I see that the Silmarils are above all things to you."_  


Those words tormented Feanaro over and over again. Had he truly valued his jewels above all things? Was he so smitten with his work that he had forgotten basic decency? A wave of remorse stirred inside him, remembering his abandonment of Nolofinwe and his sons. He had always had quarrels with his younger half brother, and yet he had never felt hatred for him. He had despised him, loathed him perhaps, but had he hated him so much as to desert him in the ices of Helcaraxe?

 

Feanaro had no answers to such questions. He had caused the doom of the Noldor, of his kin. Feanaro remembered the last words he had said to his sons, that they must find the Silmarils and defeat Morgoth. He remembered the oath, the accursed oath that he had made in his madness. He was responsible for the damnation of his sons, for their doom and of everyone else. He had traveled to Middle Earth with hopes of defeating Morgoth, but was he any better than him?

 

A figure appeared in the solitary halls, and Feanaro recognized it as the doomsman of the Valar, Lord Namo. 

 

"Somebody is here to see you. Follow me."--The Vala stated coldly, and Feanaro followed him, not sure of who to expect. He would probably see his father, although the thought did not ease his spirits. What would his father say of his misdeeds, of the Kinslaying? Would his father forsake his name as well? Would he rue the day Feanaro was born?

 

At last he saw a figure, standing solitarily on the halls. Feanaro expected to see his father's long ebony hair and his stern gray eyes, but he saw none of it. Where his father would have been stood a maiden with silver hair embedded with roses. Feanaro saw Namo depart, leaving them alone

 

"Feanaro."--She spoke with a crystalline voice, a voice so familiar to Feanaro that it was as if he had heard it before. Her face was familiar as well, and the roses in her hair reminded him of his deceased mother, whom he had never met...

 

His eyes widened, struck with the sudden realization that he was, in fact, standing in front of his mother. Miriel Serinde, the first wife of Finwe, his mother that had died because of him. Feanaro fell to his knees, unable to speak, inhaling the sweet fragrance that emanated from her.

 

"Feanaro, my son."--She said, caressing his coarse hair. Feanaro lowered his gaze, not wishing to stare into his mother's eyes. He did not deserve this, he thought, he did not deserve to be loved by the mother that had died because of him.

 

At last Feanaro spoke, his voice quavering with emotion. "Mother." That was the only word he could utter, too touched to say anything else.

 

Miriel smiled, and Feanaro felt her angelical embrace surround him. "I have been waiting for you, but not for enough time. Your death was too soon, too hasty. I know of what has happened, Feanaro."--Her tone was stern, but soothing nevertheless.

 

"Forgive me. Forgive me."-He began to weep, lowering his head in shame. He had not wept as much since the death of Amrod, and for once he was not restraining his tears. He wept for all of his misdeeds, for all of the lives he took, for the doom of the Noldor, for the damnation of his sons... He wept for Nolofinwe, for his nephews, for Nerdanel, for his sons, and for everyone he had ever harmed. He wept even when he felt that he had no more tears to shed, and even then his weeping did not cease.

 

"I have nothing to forgive you for, Feanaro."--His mother said softly, cleaning his tears away.--"It is your brother that must forgive you."

 

"I did not mean to... I did not wish for it to end like this. I only wanted to avenge my father, to reclaim our honor. I was not myself. I am sorry... I am sorry for everything."--He laid his head in his mother's lilac-colored dress as he wept.

 

Miriel stroked his hair gently, kneeling next to him. "Do you repent your misdeeds, my son?"

 

Feanaro assented. "I do. I do. I would do anything to heal the harm I have caused, the doom I have created..."

 

"Then let us not dwell here any longer. Your father is awaiting us. Come."--She stood up, extending her hand to Feanaro.

 

Feanaro shook his head. "Why would he want to see me? I am responsible for all of our woes, for the doom of the Noldor, for the kinslaying, for your death..."

 

"Feanaro, you were never responsible for my passing. I was too delicate, too weak. It is I who must be blamed. I was forced to leave you and your father."--Her voice was frail, and it sound if it were to break at any moment.

 

Feanaro stood up from the ground. "That is not true. You were not frail. It was my fault, for I drained you far too much. But if you insist, I will go with you to face my father, even if he despises me."

 

"He does not despise you, Feanaro, he asked to see you. Let's go."--Feanaro did not argue any further, and they both walked across the hall. It was then that Feanaro saw his father's figure standing, awaiting them.

 

Finwe approached them, and his grey eyes met Feanaro's reddened ones. He stood in silence, not knowing what to say, lowering his gaze. "Feanaro."--He said, and before he knew what was going on, he felt his father's embrace. "Forgive me."--Feanaro pleaded, starting to cry once more. His father stared at him, stroking his hair. "Weep no more my son, for everything is forgiven."


End file.
